Flanagan waved his crew out of the door so he could get inside. The order to leave


    their posts had produced an orderly abandonment. He waited until an opening showed


    itself so he could slip inside and start into the main floor while everyone was leaving.


    Where would he go to sabotage the factory? Would Rydell know that? Where would


    Rydell go to sabotage the factory?


    He waved stragglers out of his way as he walked the aisles. More than one stick of


    dynamite would be involved in this. Rydell wouldn’t have set things up to let the


    building go about its business if he wasn’t in charge.


    Flanagan paused when he reached the far end of the open space. He didn’t see anyone


    moving around on the floor. Someone smart could hide behind the machines. Should


    he check the offices, or the hall leading to his lab downstairs?


    He decided to take one more walk around the floor. Any bomb would have to be on


    the floor if it was supposed to wreck the machinery enough to cause a shutdown.


    Shanks might have already planted it and left.


    If he was waiting on the explosion outside, what would he think with all the


    employees leaving? Would he guess someone was looking for his bomb? Would he


    come back and try to prevent his bomb from being found? Would he stay out and


    hope the thing exploded and took the meddler with it?


    Flanagan put that aside. He couldn’t stop Shanks from coming back inside the


    building. His armor should protect him from gunfire. He had to worry about the


    bomb. He didn’t know how big it was, or if his suit would protect him from that.


    None of his employees had a suit, and didn’t stand a chance if the thing went off


    while they helped look for it.


    He found a box under a press during his second inspection. It was the only thing that


    looked out of place. He would feel guilty if he was dealing with someone’s lunch. He


    gently pulled the box from under the press so he could take a closer look at it.


    Flanagan used the edge of his shield to gently pry apart the tape holding the flaps of


    the box down. He didn’t want to make a wrong move if it was a bomb. He pulled the


    flaps apart while holding it in place on the concrete floor with his knee. He shook his


    head at the mass of wiring and what looked like dynamite in the container.


    So he had been right about Shanks leaving a bomb. He didn’t worry about how


    Shanks had got into the place to plant the bomb. He felt that Rydell had called to give


    Shanks a cover story to get him inside the factory.


    Then he just needed to leave the box accidentally on purpose next to a machine they


    used to flatten metal into sheets to be shipped out for use in construction jobs.


    If the press was blown up, it might survive the blast. Its operator would lose legs.


    He considered the angles and felt shrapnel from the blast would reach four other


    machines, and three of them were set up so that some other operator would get nailed


    by the blast.


    He didn’t have to worry about that now that he had it in front of him. All he had to


    do was take it apart so it didn’t explode in his face.


    Flanagan started by checking the wiring. He knew a little about electricity and how


    clocks worked. He didn’t see any switches to stop tampering. He noted the thing sat


    on a plate of some kind. It took up the bottom of the box. Maybe that was the backup


    system if the clock didn’t work.


    He didn’t like that. That plate might be some kind of explosive itself to trigger the


    bigger bomb if it was moved.


    Could his suit take two blasts if he messed up?


    He didn’t want to find out. Testing is where they used dummies instead of the


    inventor of the process.


    Too bad the mixture in his lab was solid by now. He could dip the bomb in that if he


    could scoot it along the ground without blowing himself up. What was his next best


    option?


    He could push it outside so only the outside of the building would be hurt. He would


    have to ask his employees to move out of the parking lot and find some place to use


    for cover so he could blow the thing up in an empty lot.


    The other consideration was somewhere walled in like the restrooms. If the bomb


    went off in there, he could repair the bathrooms faster than he could repair the


    machinery for his contracts. The plumbing would be a fixable disaster.


    The bathroom seemed the best for defusing everything. Then letting the bomber know


    that Rydell wasn’t going to pay him might get him to stop attacking.


    Or he might decide he didn’t have anything to lose and try to wreck the factory out


    of spite.


    Flanagan picked up the box. He scanned the walls until he saw the sign for the


    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.bathrooms. He started over slowly.


    Once he had things defused, he could retreat and let the Jersey State Police handle the


    rest. If the blame could be dumped on Rydell, that would be more charges of


    attempted murder on the docket.


    He reached the bathroom and was surprised by the sweat on his face. He paused


    before he took another step. He blinked at a drop almost touching his eye. Once he


    was done with this, he would be glad to hang up the armor for good.


    He pushed open the men’s room door. Once he got the bomb over to the sink, he


    could use that to soak the dynamite down to leech the nitro out of it. That could still


    cause problems but dumping the nitro should dilute it enough so it wasn’t dangerous.


    If he was wrong, he was blowing up the pipes underneath the factory. That would cost


    more than replacing one of the machines to fix.


    The main problem with this solution was the plate in the bottom of the box. What


    would happen if he added weight to it under the water.


    He started running the sink full of water. The worse he predicted happening was the


    bomb going off in the restroom and killing him despite his armor. At least Rydell


    wouldn’t get the company where he was going.


    Miss Rich would keep things straight. He had faith in her.


    He put the box on the edge of the sink. He worked the tape off the bottom as he


    watched the water fill the bowl. He turned the water off when it was to the brim.


    Did it have room for the bomb? He couldn’t tell. The plate was an additional worry.


    How much explosive was in that?


    He peeled the tape away from the bottom of the box while holding the flaps closed.


    He positioned it over the sink of water and moved his hand. The plate tilted in the


    sink. The dynamite went into the water. He stepped back behind his shield.


    He breathed a sigh of relief that nothing happened. He checked the plate and saw that


    it was tied to the bundle of dynamite. If he had tried to pull the sticks out, that would


    have set everything off.


    Now all he had to do was pull the clock off the bundle, and separate the wires. He


    needed a tool for that. He had a wire cutter and some other things in his lab. He could


    get them and get back in a couple minutes.


    Once he was done, he could hand the whole thing over to the state police and let them


    do what they could to find the bomber.


    He stepped out of the restroom. He spotted men standing around the staff door. He


    didn’t recognize them from the shift. He spotted the Tommy guns as they spotted him.


    Flanagan raised his shield as he backed up into the restroom. He couldn’t let them


    have the bomb. It could still be used if they pulled it out of the water before the nitro


    was pulled out.


    Bullets dug into the walls as the machine guns rattled. Flanagan didn’t feel any


    impact, so they had missed him, or the armor was doing its job. He had to hold the


    restroom until the police arrived.


    He slammed the door closed with his foot. He could hold the door closed until help


    arrived. Should he? His armor should allow him to fight back without worrying about


    getting hurt.


    He was trapped in a room with a bomb that could still go off. A small army of thugs


    could do anything to his factory while he waited for help. He had to decide. Was he


    going to do something about this mess, or let someone else handle it?


    He had the equipment, he had the ability, he had the determination. He couldn’t let


    someone else save the factory when he was right there. He might as well let them


    burn the place down if he wanted to stay in the bathroom.


    He flexed his hands as he stared at the door. He needed to attack and keep them from


    wrecking the factory. He couldn’t let Rydell win.


    He stepped back as he heard steps coming to the door. He raised his shield to protect


    his head. The glass shield on the welder’s visor wouldn’t stop a bullet as well as the


    rest of the suit. The door swung open. He charged behind the shield.


    He heard the roaring of the Tommy as he ran right at the door. He didn’t feel


    anything. He didn’t know if that was because the shield and armor was working better


    than he thought, or he was riddled with holes and couldn’t feel anything. He let the


    shield push the machine gun out of the way as he kept going with his shoulder. His


    enemy crashed into the opposite door to the ladies’ restroom.


    Another man appeared as Flanagan straightened. He started to raise his chopper to


    take care of the purple menace in front of him. A fist to the face sent him sprawling.


    A foot applied with more force took him out of the fight.


    Flanagan turned to the first man and made sure to kick him hard in the face. He didn’t


    need that guy getting up while he was dealing with the gunner’s friends.


    Flanagan took a look at the factory floor. He knew there should be three more men.


    His brief glimpse before he had ducked into the bathroom had told him that. He


    spotted them moving among the machinery. One was close to where the bomb had


    been hidden.


    He knelt and searched the man he had taken outside the bathroom. He found a pistol


    to add to his collection. He dragged the man into the ladies’ and tied him to his friend


    after making sure to take their wallets and drop their Thompsons and other pistol in


    the men’s.


    Now he had to deal with the other three before they caused too much trouble.


    Flanagan crept into the maze of machinery and beltways. He looked around as he


    went from one piece of equipment to the next. He caught sight of one of the three men


    looking around for him and ducked down.


    He knelt and looked under the beltways between him and the third man. He took aim


    and fired once. The man went down with an outraged cry.


    Apparently he had never been shot.


    Flanagan looked around for his two friends. He saw number four on the steps heading


    to the offices above the factory floor. He took aim and fired. The bullet hit the railing


    and bounced away. That was enough to send the gunman scrambling into the offices.


    Flanagan shook his head. He would have to go up there and flush the trouble maker


    out now.


    He scanned the factory floor. Where was the last man? If he could deal with him, then


    he could go up and deal with the one in the offices.


    Gentle taps struck him in the arm and chest. He went down. Now he knew where


    number five was.


    He saw feet coming toward him. He aimed the pistol and fired. One shoe blew up and


    he heard a scream. He jumped up and ran over. He kicked the man in the face to shut


    him up.


    He went to the stairs. He climbed up to the offices’ door. He ducked behind his shield


    as bullets blasted through the glass. He checked the scene when the bullets stopped


    flying. He pushed through shattered door and went over a desk as the last man tried


    to put another drum in the Tommy gun. A gloved fist sent the man against a desk.


    The gunman went for his pistol. Flanagan already had his in hand. He fired once in


    the man’s hand. The gun fell to the floor.


    “Hello, Shanks,” said Flanagan. “I’ve been looking for you.”


    One punch sent Ian Shanks down for the count.